


Hands Off

by halocentury



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Hair-pulling, Hostage Situations, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, M/M, Rope Bondage, Sort Of, Trade Off Gone Wrong, rope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halocentury/pseuds/halocentury
Summary: The hand off doesn't go as Oswald had hoped.Barbara barters instead, upping the exchange by including him in the trade off.4.21 divergent.Rated M as a precaution, primarily because of heavy innuendo and positioning. No sexual acts take place.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Jeremiah Valeska
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12





	Hands Off

Waking up, eyes opening to darkness, he concentrated on not moving his head, or pulling against the ropes that held him tightly to a chair. He didn’t want to give away that he had regained consciousness, the throbbing pain in the back of his head proving that he had been hit. 

Having been the aggressor in these kinds of situations, he couldn’t guarantee if he was alone or being monitored. Until he knew more, he stayed motionless, silent. His arms and wrists were tied to the back of a solid wooden chair, the back sturdy and thick. Curiously, only his left leg was fully secured, tied to the chair leg just below his knee and around his ankle. 

How nice, how odd, that his captor was being so considerate to only do the first tie around his right leg. 

Tempting as it was to wiggle his toes to try and get some circulation to his left foot he breathed slowly, carefully, kept his posture relaxed. The burlap sack over his head had a distinct scent to it, a gas that he had hoped he would never be subjected to. He felt fine, as it was, unnerved by not knowing where he was, but his state of mind didn’t feel predisposed to manic laughter. 

Yet knowing that Scarecrow had to be nearby had him thinking of his options, how to negotiate for his freedom. His last encounter with him in the hangar had not gone well, but for all that happened, he hadn’t done anything to really upset him. They had all been responsible for aspects of Jerome’s plan, so unless Crane was assigned the duty of correcting that slight, he hadn’t done anything to directly offend him.

Unless he truly was determined to infect Gotham with the laughing gas. Or worse, a different kind of gas, and he was about to be his first test subject.

He was back to considering his best offers when he heard a door open. Rather than the soft tread that he knew heralded Scarecrow’s approach, he heard a sharp precise walk of a well-made shoe, certainly not the soft soled shoes that Scarecrow wore.

It was that realisation that had his breath hitch, shoulders tensing, and a very different voice greeting him. “Well, Mister Cobblepot. Pleased to see that you are awake.”

Jeremiah?

Recollection hit him hard, harder than the hit that Barbara used to knock him out. 

“Would you please extend me the courtesy of letting me see you?” By the sound of it Jeremiah was still behind him, but listening to his footsteps, he came around his left and stopped. 

He hadn’t tried to discern the features of the room, only making out vague shapes, but it was when Jeremiah came to stand in front of him, his figure darker than the rest of the room for the time being, that he tilted his head up. “Do you think you can plead for your life better when you can look me in the eyes?” Jeremiah inquired.

“No, but I want to see your… amusement, as you share with me what Barbara did after she knocked me out,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders, or at least attempting to.

“She did offer quite an interesting deal, and some insight into how you all arrived together.” Oswald braced for a rough yank of the burlap sack, perhaps even grabbing his hair in the process, but Jeremiah was surprisingly delicate as he removed it.

“I would presume that she also explained why she was leaving me behind as part of the hand off,” Oswald remarked, displeased that with the humidity under the sack his fringe was now sticking to his sweaty brow. Appearances weren’t his priority though, as he watched Jeremiah make his way over to a drafting table, not bothering to turn on either of the lamps beside it.

“She thought if she sweetened the deal I would be more readily persuaded to agree to her offer.” Jeremiah glanced his way, a slow curve of his head and the knowing look suggesting that he knew she wasn’t the one to originally have the idea. Oswald huffed under his breath, only slightly perturbed, but kept watching, waiting for him to elaborate. “She too has eyes and ears within the GCPD. Her informant informed her that my brother’s plan was shared to the police by way of one of his… Horribles? I think that’s what Jerome was calling themselves. More than that, you had been the one to betray him.”

“I know you don’t think highly of your brother, you already told us that much,” Oswald pointed out, not seeing why he had been readily accepted as part of the trade. 

“Yet, if you scorn one Valeska, you scorn the other,” Jeremiah added, the corner of his mouth lifting in a facsimile of a smirk. “And, as you do have a reputation for double-crossing people, I decided keeping you for the time being would be to my benefit.” His hand drifted down to the table, tapping on the paper, eventually muttering under his breath. “Little good did it do me.”

Flattered to the point of almost laughing, which he knew would not be best in the madman’s presence, he ducked his head, licking his lips before he wiped his grin off his face. “Gotham is unscrupulous. As soon as anyone loses the advantage, most people will do anything to gain the upper-hand, or at least keep themselves out of further trouble. Did she not give you back the core relay?”

“It’s not like she walked away with my money.” Jeremiah turned around, facing him properly, but flicked on one of the lights. “I had an alternate plan to destroying the city, so losing the core relay wasn’t vital to my strategy. However, I was not aware that Jim Gordon is impossible to kill. His broadcast delayed the execution long enough for someone to dismantle my bombs.”

“And people call me a cockroach.” This time he did laugh, but kept it short, not wanting to incite further wrath, not when their conversation was going mostly pleasantly. “I do – normally – have my finger on the pulse of the city, knowing how to get to people in power in the various branches. The financial district. The mayor’s circle. The GCPD. I can even persuade Jim Gordon personally. I credit that to my longevity, and my ability to rise to the top on more than one occasion. I am more boon to you than keeping me a prisoner.”

He got a crisp headshake in response. “You would double-cross me at the soonest opportunity.”

“Only if you give me reason to.” His reputation preceded him, there was no point in trying to state otherwise. “I am a businessman first and foremost. I run trades, I make partnerships where I can. We could make an arrangement that benefits you as much as it benefits me.”

“I work alone.” His tone brokered no argument, and he was about to assure him that he was accustomed to not interfering in day-to-day business, but Jeremiah narrowed his gaze on his open mouth. “Useless prattle is a distraction I don’t need.” 

His shoulders were starting to ache, his fingers going numb even as he flexed them. “Prattle is all you’ll be subjected to, so long as you keep me here against my will.”

“I have other rooms to move you and your chair to.”

“Are you sure? Your… manor looks fairly derelict.” Oswald waggled his head, to which Jeremiah sighed loudly, turning away from the distraction he was posing. “Ohh, I will prattle louder if needed. I can make your living arrangements, your workplace, a hellhole. Happily!”

“I am starting to see other reasons as to why Ms. Kean wanted to get rid of you,” he bemoaned even as he was looking over whatever paperwork was on the table, looking over it several times as his finger traced up the same section three times.

“Am I distracting you now, Mr. Valeska?” Tied up as he was he could still wiggle his hips. Jeremiah didn’t reply, still rereading his paperwork. Laughter bubbling up in his chest he shook his head up, blinking at the arched ceiling. “I can keep going. I’ve been to Arkham twice. Your either learn how to ignore the sheer madness and volume or… it just drives you mad too.” 

“I still have this burlap sack that your old colleague left behind,” Jeremiah warned, although where he had left the sack, Oswald hadn’t noticed.

“I am not some bird that will fall asleep as soon as it’s dark!” Ignoring him didn’t appear to be one of Jeremiah’s strengths, watching him pinch and rub his nose, something that had him recalling Penn of all people. He pushed through that odd memory, focussing on his tactic to keep talking. “Really, what do you gain from keeping me here? Apparently the deal you struck with Barbara fell through. You already told me that your bombs failed in their purpose.”

“I don’t need you running about, plotting against me again.” Even though there was distance between his chair and the desk, he could see the pinch between Jeremiah’s eyebrows. Pulling his papers away from the desk, Jeremiah doubled his efforts to getting through his reading. “Here, you are under my watch, you can’t pose any trouble.”

If Jeremiah had bothered to look up, he would’ve seen him smirking. “You don’t know me that well, do you?” 

“I know that Ms. Kean abandoned you – and your plan, for her benefit,” Jeremiah countered, face still bowed, but glancing to him from the corner of his eye.

“Double-crossing. It’s the… art form perfected and preferred by Gothamites. I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last, but I can promise, as long as you don’t try to blow up the city, I have no reason to cause you any trouble.” Oswald paused to reconsider, adding one last condition. “Unless you cause me trouble first.”

“You just said so yourself, you’d be causing me trouble first,” he reminded. 

That paper was doing no good to Jeremiah, Oswald was pleased to see, knowing that he had recalled his previous words. “Good to know you are listening to me,” he said, lips twisting into a smile. 

Thrusting his hand and the papers to his side, Jeremiah shuddered an exhale out. “Do be quiet.”

“Perhaps I’m more engaging than whatever dry material you’re failing to read,” he offered, tilting his head.

Rustling his papers Jeremiah slapped them hard back onto the desktop. “I’m willing to engage my gun with your forehead.”

“To bring an end to our enlightening conversation?” Oswald asked, sounding sincerely disappointed by the blunt response. 

“It’s either that, or remove you from this room,” he reminded, shoulders tightening as he gripped the frame of the desk.

“You did mention the latter, but you didn’t actually follow through with that.” Straightening up and lifting an eyebrow, unseen to Jeremiah, Oswald posed his skeptical inquiry. “Are you sure you really mean either threat?”

“I never falter.” Words firm and clear, Jeremiah turned around, staring him down. “Once I set my mind on something, I follow through. I just haven’t decided on what will be your proper punishment.”

Humming exaggeratedly, Oswald shook his head. “I’m starting to think you like my company. You aren’t getting rid of me, and you keep responding to me.” Tipping his head forward a bit, as if he was sharing a piece of secret advice, he added in sotto voce. “It would take zero effort to just not answer me.” 

His fingers started to curl in, but they didn’t make a full fist, first clasping his opposite hand before he crossed his arms. “Are you always this insufferable?”

“Ah, another inquiry?” He laughed to himself, pitching it louder when he realised laughing wore harder on Jeremiah. “To answer your question, well – that’s not my question to answer. Why don’t you phone up Jim Gordon and ask him? And do tell him I say hello.”

“You think he’s going to help you?”

“I would like to think so, but… he has a habit of reneging on favours.”

A chuckle escaped Jeremiah’s lips, but in the short silence between them it was as loud as a bomb, and he quickly scowled. “When it comes to you? I am not surprised.”

“Enjoying yourself now?” He didn’t care about the slight, he was familiar with them from everyone, and instead, he relished the brief show of amusement. “We could just make today a social call if you’re truly against making business arrangements, but I would prefer to be untied.”

“You are going to remain tied up,” Jeremiah insisted, nearly closing his eyes in a shake of his head.

“Won’t that make relocating me to a different room a little difficult?”

Twisting towards his desk, he shuffled through his papers, pushing them to the side. From his poor angle he realised there was a larger printed paper underneath everything, which Jeremiah smoothed out with both hands. “I still have a gun on hand.” 

“I fail to see it.” 

“You don’t need to see it coming.” Jeremiah picked up a pen, removed the cap with his teeth. “And you do need to be quiet.”

For a few seconds he was quiet, staring at Jeremiah before he shook it off. “You have yet to present me with a convincing argument as to why I should.” Irritation plain in his furrowed brow, Jeremiah sighed loudly. “Come on, share with me,” Oswald encouraged. “I love a detailed plan.”

“I am working,” Jeremiah gritted out, cap still poised in his mouth.

“You really didn’t pull this off. Your follow through on taking me hostage?” Oswald tsked, shifting his jaw sideways. “You definitely shouldn’t have left me in your work office.” 

Yanking the cap from his mouth, he slapped cap and pen to the desk. “The only sage advice you have given all day,” Jeremiah remarked as he strode over to him.

No gun in hand Oswald prepared himself for being freed, or at least dragged out of the room while still strapped in to the chair. Irked as he was, Jeremiah had regained his cool, expression undisturbed as he sunk his fingers into his hair. 

Bracing for the worst, and hoping that Jeremiah really wasn’t going to drag him out while still holding to his hair, he swallowed thickly, ignoring the lurch of his belly, pain and lust sharp as he blinked up into those pale but bright eyes.

Jeremiah halted though, staring at him, lips dropping away from their tight line, parting slightly. Oswald remembered the pen cap and relaxed, the hot slow curl in his belly seeping lower. “Must we part so soon?” Oswald aimed for playful, as he had for most of their conversation, looking to bother Jeremiah further, but he couldn’t stop the slightly winded tone to his words.

His voice was somewhat softer, even as he repeated his request. “Until you learn to be quiet.”

“Because I’m distracting?” Oswald didn’t wait for an answer, jutting his chin up, eyes widening a fraction at the same pace his lips parted. “Maybe I need the distraction.”

“Insufferable.” The word was less chiding than before. Jeremiah adjusted his grip, hand coming down to press fully to his scalp, tilting his head back to get a better look at his face. 

“You know… there is an alternate arrangement I’d be perfectly amenable to.” When Jeremiah’s thumb slid closer to his face he leaned into to the touch, until his thumbnail was digging into his forehead. “Distractions between business.”

“Do you offer this to all your business partners?” Jeremiah’s voice was not as controlled as his appearance suggested, and his fingers tightened as Oswald lazily swayed his head side to side. 

“No, but won’t you work better once your distraction has taken care of your… distraction?” Oswald offered, looking away from his penetrating stare long enough to appraise the shift of Jeremiah’s hips, bringing them closer to his face. 

Jeremiah helped to close the distance, sliding his knee onto the seat of the chair. Eased it forward until it was wedged firmly in the vee of his legs. Jeremiah had to feel the twitch of his body in response, and more telling, the throb against his thigh. “Keep talking,” Jeremiah insisted on a sharp whisper.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Oswald leaned in more, hissing and blinking heavily when Jeremiah clenched his hair again, but he breathed against the fabric of the other man’s trousers, looking more snug than they had been a minute ago.

His fingers tightened even as his other hand wrestled with his belt.

“I do have to warn you,” Oswald added, nosing at the buckle once Jeremiah unhooked it. “I still won’t be quiet.”

Jeremiah almost sounded pleased. “For once, I may not be disappointed with that.”

His hands were still tied, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have other ways to undo the zipper. 

And he too was pleased that Jeremiah didn’t sound disappointed at all.


End file.
